


The Hardest Part

by DanaWPatterson



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/F, F/M, post 3x20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14562177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanaWPatterson/pseuds/DanaWPatterson
Summary: The engagement ring Meg had been wearing on her finger was now in Reade's pocket. Every now and again he took it out and stared at it. He knew who was the blame for the whole mess.





	1. All Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> It's not necessary that you read my previous fic, "Ready to Forgive, Not Forget" but I highly recommend it. I've gone slightly off canon in both that fic and this one, but I've written this one in such a way that it has connections to the previous one. I'm using canon as much as possible but building off my previous work as well. This is a multi-chapter effort (maybe two, three chapters tops). I hope to upload those chapters quickly but as of this writing, I have not actually written them. This work falls after 3x20 "Let it Go" and builds off of something we got a very quick glimpse of in the previews for 3x21.
> 
> Chapter one is not as heavy as I anticipate later chapters being. There will be eventual smut (some very minor stuff awaits in this chapter) and eventually a major character death. You've been warned. 
> 
> Also, big thanks to everyone who read, commented on, or left kudos on "Ready to Forgive, Not Forget." That was my first fanfiction attempt and without the positive feedback I received, I may not have decided to write this one. - DWP

Chapter One 

The apartment felt empty now. The engagement ring Meg had been wearing on her finger was now in Reade's pocket. Every now and again he took it out and stared at it. He wanted to keep it safe. Meg could change her mind and come back.  

His cell phone buzzed again. In the last half hour, it had buzzed at least 10 times. He'd checked the first few times hoping it was Meg calling him, and he'd been disappointed to see the names of his team members appearing on his caller ID. Weller had called three times already, and Jane had called twice. Tasha had called.  Patterson had called four times. After her fourth call, Reade dialed into his voicemail and listened to the message she had left. There'd been a breakthrough with the laptop they took from the safe in Lynette Belmont's house, and no one was able to reach him. 

 _Reade, we've got some news. Like super time sensitive, urgent, pick up your damn phone news. Weller's called. Jane called. Tasha's called. I've called you four freaking times now. Unless you're being held captive somewhere or Roman has finally killed you, call someone back so I don't have to leave this lab, find you, and kick your ass. Call someone._   

She'd paused and then added "Please" as an afterthought.  

He paced around his living room for a few more minutes before calling Patterson back.  

"Are you dead?" Patterson asked by way of greeting. 

"I wish," Reade said. He didn't give her a chance for a follow up question. "What's going on?" 

"Tasha and I broke into Lynette's laptop, and I think I know Crawford's next move," she said. "He's targeting New York City landmarks. Within the next 24 hours." 

Reade didn't respond. 

"Did you hear me?" Patterson asked. "We think we know what Crawford is about to do." 

"I heard you," Reade said.  

"So, you're on your way, right?" 

"Yeah, on my way," Reade replied, his voice toneless.  

Patterson hung up her phone and turned back to the assembled team members with a confused look on her face.  

"So that was the weirdest conversation I've ever had with Reade," she said. 

"Really?" Jane said cocking an eyebrow. "You guys had a very in depth conversation about beetles just a week ago." 

"That wasn't weird," Patterson insisted. "That was science." 

"So, what's going on?" Weller asked.  

"I don't know," Patterson said. "You guys heard what I told him, and he didn't say anything at all. And then finally says in this dead monotone voice 'on my way.'" She attempted to match the tone and flatness of Reade's voice. 

"What's weird about that?" Jane asked. 

"Just the way he said it. Like 'on my way' but what he really meant to say was 'I don't care,'" Patterson said.  

Tasha closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth. She knew what had happened. Patterson saw her cover her mouth and turned to her.  

"What?" 

"Oh no," Tasha whispered. 

"Tasha, what is it?" Jane asked.  

"Meg," Tasha said.  

Patterson furrowed her brow. "Reade's Meg? What about her?" 

"She knows," 

"Knows what?" Weller asked, his impatience growing.  

"Oh, Tasha," Patterson said, going to Tasha's side. "Are you sure?" 

Weller stepped between the women. "Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" 

"Meg stopped here the other day, and I sort of told her that I wasn't going to the wedding," Tasha explained.  

"So what?" Weller asked. 

Jane turned to face her clueless husband. "Tasha told Reade that she had feelings for him, and she wasn't going to be his best man." 

"You don’t think Meg found out, do you?" Patterson asked.  

"I don’t know," Tasha said. "I told her I had a CIA op that day. I don't know if she bought it." 

"So?" Weller was clearly missing a piece of the puzzle.  

Jane clucked her tongue at Kurt. "How have you missed all of this?" 

"All of what?" Kurt demanded. "Would someone please tell me what the hell this is all about?" 

Tasha nodded to Patterson to tell the story.  

"This is ridiculous," Patterson sighed and then quickly explained. "Like two years ago Reade kissed Tasha and told her that he was in love with her —" 

"What? Really?" 

"Stop interrupting," Patterson ordered. "It just makes the story longer. Anyway, we all go our own ways, you two got married — you know that part, you were there — and then we all come back here. After Tasha met Meg —" 

"Who I like, really!" Tasha insisted. 

"What did I say about interruptions?" Patterson asked incredulously.  

"Sorry." 

"Like I was saying, after Tash met Meg and Reade told us he was getting married, Tasha decided it was a great idea to tell Reade that she has feelings for him. Because she's an idiot. Everyone caught up now?" 

"Wow," Weller said finally. "So you think Meg found out about all of this and what? They're in the middle of a fight?" 

"It's only a fight if the other person doesn't pack up all their stuff and leave," Reade said as he entered the lab.  

"Reade, I'm so sorry," Tasha said, going up to give him a hug.  

He put his arms out to stop her and took a step away from her.  

"No, Zapata." 

"Is everything okay, Reade?" Jane asked.  

Reade shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he said. "What do we have?" 

Patterson punched some commands into her keyboard and the display from Lynette's laptop appeared on the lab's wall-mounted monitors.  

"This is the laptop we took from Lynette's house," she said as she pulled up the laptop's email client. "The whole thing was encrypted so Tasha and I spent last night here trying to crack it. And we did. We got access to everything. Documents, browser history, emails. There was an email from HCI Global with the subject line 'Codes' —"  

"Very original," Jane interrupted, earning a sharp look from Patterson.  

"This was from this morning and it's full of secret access codes. They were all in the same format used by Franklin-Dorfman Security," Tasha explained.  

"These protect some of the most secure buildings in Manhattan," Patterson continued. "Madison Square Garden, MoMA, New York Public Library. They all reset their security codes daily." 

"The codes are only useful for the next 24 hours," Tasha said.  

Weller studied the monitors. The list of codes was extensive.  

"How many are there?" 

"Forty-one." 

"Shit," Jane said. "Can we narrow it down at all? Do we have any idea which one he's going to hit?" 

Patterson switched the monitor displays again, loading a map of New York City with red dots marking the 41 buildings using Franklin-Dorfman Security whose one-time use access codes were in Lynette's email.   

"These are all the potential targets. I've got my guys contacting every one of these places and checking on their security measures to find out when their access codes rollover," Patterson said. "It's going to take some time but we should be able to narrow this down in a couple of hours." 

"What if we don't have a couple of hours?" Reade asked. "You said Lynette got this email today. This morning. Crawford could already be hitting some place, and we wouldn’t even know it. " 

Weller studied the map with his hands on his hips.  

"Let's get some teams out there," he said finally. "Alert their in-house security people. Make sure we get lots of eyes open and alert. In the meantime, I think we should all go home and try to get some sleep. It's been a long 24 hours for everyone, and we should all be sharp for whatever is about to happen." 

They'd murmured their reluctant agreement and started to break. Patterson returned to the laptop open on her desk and continued working on narrowing down the potential targets. Reade stopped in front of her. 

"I know, I know," she said. "Everyone goes but me. I'm working on it. I just need an hour. Maybe two. Two and a half. Ish. Don't worry. I'll call as soon as I find something." 

*** 

Tasha caught up with Reade in the hallway.  He'd been the last to leave Patterson's lab, and she quickly followed him. She grabbed his elbow just before he rounded the corner to his office. 

"You can't be mad at me about this," Tasha insisted. "This is not my fault." 

"Not your fault?" Reade repeated. "Are you serious with this right now?" 

"It's not." 

"Look, Zapata, times have changed.  _Things_ have changed. You could have told me two years ago that you had feelings for me," Reade said, his voice rising and drawing the attention of a few passing agents. He gestured for her to step inside of his office. He shut the door. "That's two years. You've forfeited any rights to come to me and tell me that you feel anything for me. What'd you think I was going to do? Jump up and down and tell you that I've been here pining for you? I'm not. I haven't been. That's just not happening and now Meg is gone. She's left me. She gave me back the ring, and she's gone. There's not going to be a wedding. Tell me how this isn't your fault." 

"I didn't expect you to do anything," Tasha said. "I was trying to be stand up about this. By telling you what I told you, I wanted you to understand why I didn't want to be your best man. I didn’t want you to think I was just being an asshole. Did you think it was going to be easy for me?" 

"I don't give a god damn if it's easy for you!" Reade yelled. "You have no right to come in here and tell me that you have feelings for me. I was engaged. I  _was_ happy. So excuse me if I'm not overjoyed that you suddenly realized that you were willing to settle for me. All you've done is ruin things." 

Tasha was seeing red. She turned away from Reade and faced the door. She abruptly turned back and pointed a finger in his face.  

"You know what, Reade? Fuck you." She spat the words. "I wasn't willing to  _settle_  for you. I genuinely  _was_ in love with you. I don't know why I told you but I did. And I'm not going to stand here and argue with you about why I felt the way I felt and why I did the things I did. I'm done.  Now you can stand here and keep arguing but you won't do it with me. If you want a fight, find someone else because I'm not up for it." 

She started towards the door and started to pull it open.  

"I don't give a shit what you're up for," Reade yelled back. 

Tasha pulled the glass door open and turned back to him. 

"Hey Ed, fuck you." 

Reade stood in his office and watched Tasha head towards the elevator. He sat heavily in his desk chair and swiveled to face the wall.  

Patterson saw Tasha storm out of Reade's office. Her face was red and her fists were balled up at her sides. She started towards the elevator and abruptly turned to the locker room instead. Patterson waited a moment to see if the brunette would come back out and when she didn't, Patterson left the lab and headed into the locker room. She found Tasha sitting on a bench in front of her locker, her shoulders shaking.  

She put a gentle hand on Tasha's shoulder.  

"Tash?" 

Tasha started and turned her head to look at Patterson. She let out a relieved sigh and let tears start to fall down her face. 

Patterson stepped over the bench and sat down alongside her.  

"What's wrong, Tasha? What happened?" 

Tasha sniffed loudly and wiped the tears away from her cheek before turning her tear-stained face back to Patterson.  

"Reade is a fucking asshole is what happened," she said.  

"He's going through stuff," Patterson said. "Meg gave him back the ring." 

"Everyone is going through stuff, Patterson," Tasha said stiffly. "He's blaming me for Meg leaving him. Everything that's wrong in his life is my fault." 

Patterson bristled at this. She'd only forgiven the CIA agent in the last day, but they had made their relationship stronger than ever.  

"Fuck him then," Patterson said. "Seriously. If he can't accept the blame for his role in his collapsed engagement then what are you supposed to do? He could have told Meg sooner and not lied to her. Lying to people doesn't make anything better." 

She was acutely aware of how ironic the situation was. For weeks she'd barely acknowledged Tasha because of lies Tasha had told her. Patterson wasn’t over it, but she wanted to be and so they'd started over again.  

Patterson wiped the tears away from Tasha's face and kissed her softly on the lips.  

"Why don't you go home and get some rest?" Patterson suggested. "It's been a long 24 hours, and I know you didn't sleep much." 

"Whose fault was that?" Tasha asked, allowing herself a smile. "If I remember correctly, I was awfully distracted." 

Patterson smiled and kissed her again.  

"Even more reason to go home and get some sleep. We'll work on narrowing down the targets, and I promise I will call you as soon as I find something." 

*** 

Tasha was woken by a knock at the door. She'd done as Patterson suggested and gone home to get some sleep. She tried sleeping in her bed but couldn't fall asleep. She'd poured a glass of wine, turned on the TV, and moved to the couch with a throw blanket over herself. She checked the time on her cell phone before getting up and grabbing her service pistol. She flicked the safety off and looked through the peephole before pulling the door chain free and opening the door.  

"Reade," she said coolly, easing the pistol back to her side.  

"Can I come in?" 

Tasha took a step back to make room for him, and she shut the door behind him. He glanced at her gun.  

"Would you mind putting that away?" he asked. "I'd rather not get shot if you get mad at me again." 

"Are you planning on making me mad?" Tasha asked, flicking the safety back on and returning the gun to her belt holster she'd left on the coffee table. 

"No." 

"Okay then." 

Tasha picked up the glass of wine she'd been drinking before Reade appeared at her doorstep and took a swallow.  

"I don't suppose I could get a glass of that," Reade asked, gesturing at the wine.  

Tasha sighed and walked wordlessly into the kitchen. She uncorked the bottle she'd opened only minutes earlier and poured a glass for Reade. She shoved the glass towards him and recorked the bottle. He nodded his thanks and took a long swallow.  

"About earlier," he began. "I'm sorry. You're right. This wasn't your fault. I should have told Meg everything but I didn't know what to say or what any of it meant. If it even meant anything at all." 

He waited for Tasha to say something but she didn't reply. She stood leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping her wine.  

"Why couldn't you have told me this two years ago?" he asked finally after letting some silence build between them.  

Tasha shook her head. "I didn't know what to do. I'm toxic. I  _was toxic._ You were my best friend, and you kissed me. I freaked out. I was afraid we'd ruin things. Plus you were on all those painkillers. I didn't know if you meant it or if it was just the drugs." 

"So what changed your mind?" 

She sighed again.  

"Time, I guess? Maybe?" 

"Time. Maybe," Reade repeated.  

"Look, Ed," Tasha began. "I don't know what to tell you. Two years passed, a lot of things changed, and then we all came back together. And, I don't know, I was so happy to see you, and I thought maybe I loved you. And then I found out you were with Meg. And it broke my heart. I'd missed my opportunity." 

"Another maybe," Reade said. He took a swallow of his wine. Tasha let the silence spin out. She didn't have anything else to say. She'd moved on but she never wanted this for Reade. He was a good friend, and she loved him for it but she wasn't in love with him. If she ever had been.  

She could read the pain on his face. He had loved Meg. She never doubted that.  

"I am sorry, Reade," she said finally. "Can I give you that hug I wanted to give you earlier?" 

He held his arms out and pulled her in for a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head. 

"This sucks, Tasha," he said, not releasing her from the hug.  

She looked up at him and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I know, Ed" she said. "I'm so sorry. I wish I had never said anything." 

"I don't want to say that I'm glad you did but, I'm glad you did," Reade said. He bent slightly and kissed Tasha on the lips.  He pulled away from her and studied her face. Her eyes fluttered up to meet his and he kissed her hungrily again.  

"Ed," she gasped as she pulled away from him. "I don't think this is a good idea." 

"Why not?" he asked. "You told me you had feelings for me. You know how I feel about you." 

"Yeah but —" 

"But what?' 

Tasha couldn't think of a good reason. She and Patterson had agreed to keep their new relationship to themselves for now. It was still too new and neither woman was sure how their teammates would react. The team had only ever seen her and Patterson with men before.  

"We're friends," she replied simply. 

It was a thin excuse and she knew it, but she couldn't very well say  _because I'm sleeping with Patterson_. Especially not to Reade.  _I'd rather have sex with a woman than be with you_  didn't sound so great when she'd confessed feelings for Reade just weeks earlier. And she loved Reade. But she'd realized she loved him as her friend. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for another kiss. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and she could taste bourbon mixed with the wine as he explored the contours of her mouth. She felt his hands sliding up her back beneath her shirt and turned his oral attention to her neck. She moaned slightly as he sucked on the spot Patterson had claimed as her own just hours earlier. Reade's hands found the buttons of her blouse and he tore the shirt open sending buttons flying. She could feel his arousal pressing insistently against her hip as he continued kissing and sucking at her neck, working his way to her breasts. Reade kissed her breasts through her bra and Tasha brought her hands to the back of his head.  

"Patterson," Tasha moaned.   

Reade froze. He stepped back from her. 

"What did you say?" 

"What?" Tasha said, realizing what she'd said and trying to find an explanation but really just buying some time. 

"You just said something," Reade said.  

"Um, I said —" 

"You said 'Patterson'," Reade said, his voice accusing.  

Tasha sat down hard on her couch.  

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," Tasha said, covering her face with her hands.  

Reade didn't know how to react. He dropped into an armchair.  

"You said 'Patterson'," he repeated. "Patterson? Not Patterson Patterson?" 

Tasha looked at him from between her fingers and nodded.  

"I am so, so sorry," she said. "We weren't telling anyone because we didn't know what it was or —" 

"Patterson," Reade said again.   

"Please say something else," Tasha begged.  

"Are you and Patterson dating?" He nearly spat the last word.  

Tasha fidgeted on the couch. "Not really? I don't know?" 

"You don't know," Reade said. "So what? You just moan her name when I'm— when we're... why if you're not dating?" 

"I'm so sorry," Tasha said again.   

Reade stood. The room felt small, and he couldn't stand sitting across from Tasha any longer.  

"I gotta get out of here," he said as he headed towards the door. 

"Ed, wait," she said, getting to her own feet.  "I am sorry. About everything but please don't say anything to anyone. We're not ready."  

"Fine." 

He opened the door and was gone.  


	2. The Weak Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reade leaned forward in his chair. "I know," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Chapter Two. This was hard to write.

Chapter Two

Patterson was still hunched over her computer with an open bottle of Advil next to her when Reade appeared in front of her desk.

"Hey," he said, startling her. 

"Jesus," she said. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Can I see you in my office for a minute?" he asked.

"We're almost done," Patterson said. 

"My office?"

"Okay," she muttered and pushed away from her desk. 

Reade was sitting behind his desk when she came in, and he gestured for her to shut the door. 

"How long?" he asked. 

"We're really close," Patterson said. "I need maybe an hour to just sort through some of the data. Briana's following up on something right now, and we have some real promising leads that —"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Reade said. 

Patterson furrowed her brow. "Ok, so what are you talking about then?"

"Zapata."

"What about her?" Patterson asked. 

Reade leaned forward in his chair. "I know," he said. 

"Know what?"

"I talked to Tasha," Reade said. "I went and apologized like you suggested and thought maybe she and I could try. You know."

"Try?" It took Patterson a second to figure out what he was talking about. After she'd convinced Tasha to go home and get some sleep, she'd marched into Reade's office and read him her version of the riot act. She'd called him stupid and a child and, if she remembered correctly, told him to "accept some damn responsibility like an adult." She'd nearly ordered him to apologize to Tasha. 

"You know what I mean," Reade said. "She has feelings for me, so I thought..." he trailed off. 

Patterson closed her eyes and sat down in one of the empty chairs across from Reade's desk. "You went to her apartment?"

She didn't need to open her eyes to know that Reade was nodding. 

"She let me in, we had some wine, we talked, and —"

"And what?" Patterson asked, her voice suddenly shrill. 

"I kissed her."

Patterson's heart sank. She'd just let Tasha back in, and she hadn't felt so complete since David. Now she might lose her to Reade. And she'd get it. Tasha and Reade made sense. She couldn't deny their chemistry. It had been strained the last few months with all that had transpired but she thought back on the duo's history and knew what she saw. They were a good  _couple_.  _Couple_. The word made her feel sick.  

"Oh," Patterson said. "Well, that's good, right? You and Tasha?"

"And then she said your name."

Patterson's eyes flew open in surprise. "My name?" she asked in the quietest voice Reade had ever heard her use. "W-why my name?"

Reade didn't respond. He simply held her gaze. 

"Right," Patterson said, answering her own question and rubbing the side of her face nervously. "Because of the reason."

She waited for Reade to say something else. Silence filled the room, and she began to shift uncomfortably in her seat.  She had no idea how this conversation should go. She bit her lip. 

"She told you."

Reade nodded and Patterson felt herself turning shades of red. "Not details or anything, and I don't want to hear any either," he said quickly. 

Patterson let out a sigh of relief. She was grateful for the out. She certainly wasn't comfortable talking to Reade about it. She hadn't really talked to Tasha about it. They'd just carried on like normal but with more hand-holding and stolen kisses when no one was looking. 

"I gotta know something though, Patterson," he said. "What is it with you two? Are you dating?"

 She licked her lips and looked down at her hands. 

"I, um, I don't know," she said finally. 

"You don't know?" Reade asked in disbelief. "You two had sex but you don't know if you're together?"

Patterson jumped out of her chair at Reade's mention of sex. "She told you that?"

"Not exactly," he said. "I just assumed. We were — I was… I was trying to be more intimate when she said, well she didn't exactly  _say_  your name. It was more like a moan. But I figured it out."

Patterson's blush deepened and she slumped back down in her seat.  She wanted to be anywhere but sitting in this office having this conversation with Reade. On one hand she was extremely embarrassed by even alluding to her sex life but hearing that Tasha had moaned  _her_ name while with Reade made her a little proud. 

"It just sort of happened," she said. "We talked and I forgave her and we wound up having drinks and —"

"I don't need details," Reade interrupted putting his hands up.

"Right. Yeah. Fewer details is better. Yeah. We, uh, did, um, what you said we did," she said, unable to actually say the word "sex" in front of the associate director and her friend. 

"Do you love her?" Reade was staring at his desk blotter and couldn't bring himself to look at the scientist. 

"She's my best friend," Patterson said. "Of course I love her."

"No," Reade said. "I mean, do you  _love_ her?"

The door to Reade's office opened and Briana poked her head in before Patterson could respond. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Assistant Director," she said. "Patterson, we've got something you need to take a look at. I think we've found something."

***

The map of New York was back up on the monitors in the lab. The red dots had been reduced to just six. 

"My guys have been working on narrowing down Crawford's potential target," Patterson said. She gestured towards the monitors that the team was gathered around. "The problem is they're spread out all over Manhattan."

"How do we know that he's only going to hit one place?" Tasha asked. "I mean, what stops Crawford from blowing up Madison Square Garden while he's got another team leaking a nerve agent in Grand Central?"

"We don't exactly," Patterson said. "But we were able to narrow our field down. There were 41 codes in Lynette's email, and we've got it down to just six. I won't bore you with the details because I'm the only one interested in the how — and Weller, we all know how much he enjoys his  _fun_  science _—_ but we were able to eliminate some of these just based on when their security codes change. "

"Still, six targets?" Jane asked. "That's a lot of ground to cover. "

Weller looked at the map. The remaining six locations were spread all over Manhattan. "They're pretty far apart," he said. "We can't narrow this down any more?"

Patterson looked pleased with herself as she zoomed in on a single location.

"Actually, we can," she said. "Briana was doing some cross referencing on a hunch I had, and she found a delivery scheduled for 4:30 this afternoon at 11 West 42nd Street in Midtown. And not just any delivery, a delivery from HCI Global."

"That's not one of the addresses on the map," Reade said. "What's there?"

"I know," Patterson said. "It's the Salmon Building. Home to a financial holdings group, NYU's school of Professional Studies, NPR —"

"NPR?" Jane interrupted.

"National Public Radio," Weller supplied. 

Patterson zoomed the map out slightly to show the area around the building. 

"And it's right across the street from Bryant Park and New York—"

"New York Public Library," Tasha interrupted. 

"Public... yeah," Patterson finished, a little deflated.

Reade checked his watch. They had two hours before the scheduled delivery to gear up, scope out the area, and get on scene. 

***

The plan was to send a team over the New York Public Library and begin a quiet evacuation. They didn't want to tip off Roman or Crawford that the potential target had been identified and evacuated. While that was underway, Weller, Jane, Reade, and Zapata were going to clear the Salmon Building's loading dock and alley. They were going to try to intercept the delivery and stop the attack before it happened.

Reade wanted to split the teams differently.  Jane and Tasha or Weller and Tasha but definitely not Weller and Jane and Tasha with him. But Weller's reasoning had won out. Kurt and Jane were most familiar working together, and Reade was better partnered with Tasha. They knew each other's tendencies, strengths, and weaknesses. It was safer to go with familiar partners. Especially since this might be their final lead on Crawford.

Weller and Jane had entered the alley behind the Salmon Building from 5th Avenue. Reade and Zapata were entering the alley behind the building's loading dock from 43rd Street. They hadn't spoken since climbing out of the SUV and confirming with Patterson that their comms were working. 

Reade and Zapata reached the end of the alley. The loading dock was obscured by a set of large green dumpsters. Weller's voice cracked in their earpieces. 

"You guys reach the loading dock yet?"

"Just got eyes on it," Reade replied.  "Alleyway is all clear. No one's around the dock."

"We're clear from 5th," Weller replied, stepping out of the alley with Jane in tow, meeting Reade and Zapata in the open area. They were each carrying an assault rifle and wearing their black bulletproof vests with FBI emblazoned across the front. 

"Hey guys?" Patterson's voice filled their earpieces. "I've got surveillance feeds up at the driveway to the loading area as well as the lobby of the building. There's a camera across the street monitoring the sidewalk and street in front of the library as well, and we've got cams positioned at all of the exits and entrances. We've been watching the feeds for the last hour. No one has been in or out of the building."

"What about the warehouse space?" Jane said. 

A set of two large garage style roll-up doors were at the top of a raised concrete loading dock. A smaller door was to the left of the garage doors.

"That's the weak spot. We have no camera access to it," Patterson said.

"Alright," Weller said. "Let's clear the warehouse. One team should head in, the other should stay out here."

"Zapata and I will clear inside," Reade volunteered. He didn't relish the idea of doing surveillance with Tasha. Too much idle time would mean they'd most likely talk and he didn't really want to talk to her. If they were inside clearing a scene, there wouldn't be time to talk.

"Ok. Jane and I will stay here and keep guard," Weller agreed as Reade and Tasha made their way up the steps alongside the loading dock.

Patterson's voice filtered through the earpieces again. "Reade, I'm looking at the architectural plans for the building. If you go in through the person-sized door that should be right in front of you, you'll be in a small receiving office. That opens up to a pretty good-sized warehouse. It's about 15,000 square feet. There are two other doors that lead into the space. They're both at the rear of the room. The camera feed in the lobby gives me an idea if anyone's coming through the door on the left but the door on the right is a question mark so watch yourself."

"Got it," Reade replied.  He pointed at the door and then to himself before testing the doorknob and finding it open. He pulled it open and scanned the dimly lit room before stepping in, Zapata following close behind. 

The small office was empty except for an old metal desk littered with paperwork. A bulletin board hung on the far wall with a list of deliveries. The only delivery scheduled for the day was from HCI Global. The delivery was circled in red and PETN scrawled in blue pen below this. 

"What does PETN mean?" Zapata asked Reade.

"Please Excuse This..." Reade trailed off. "I have no idea. Patterson?"

"It is all capital letters?" 

"Yeah," Zapata answered.

"Pentaerythritol tetranitrate," Patterson said. "It's also known as PENTA. It's a nitrate. Sort of like nitroglycerin."

"Hey P?" Zapata asked. "Could you pretend we're not all brilliant science geeks and tell us what the hell that means?"

"It's an explosive compound used in things like plastic explosives," Patterson explained. 

"So I guess we know now what's being delivered," Reade said. "Weller? Did you hear all of that?"

"Yeah plastic explosives. Got it," the reply came through the headset. "See anything else?"

"Just about to clear the warehouse," Reade said. He turned from the bulletin board and started into the warehouse. 

The warehouse was neatly organized into tall rows of metal racks full of boxes. The two doors Patterson had told them about were in the back of the room.

"How do you want to tackle this?" Zapata asked. 

Reade scanned the room.

"I'll go left, you go right. Meet in the middle," he said and started to the furthest wall. He began walking down the first row.  

Zapata watched him go for a moment and then headed towards the right, her rifle leading the way. 

"You know we have to talk at some point, right?" Zapata said.

"No we don't," Reade said. 

"Oh come on, Reade."

"Not now, Zapata."

"Uh guys?" Patterson interrupted.  "You're still on comms."

"Got it, Patterson," Reade said. "Let's just finish this search."

They continued their search in silence for a few minutes. Zapata reached the end of a row and started to turn when the door in front of her banged open, knocking her off her feet and pushing her against the wall. 

Roman stepped into the room. He looked surprised for a half second and then pulled the gun from his waistband of his jeans and levelled it in Reade's direction before he could even react. 

"Assistant Director Edgar Reade," Roman smiled. There was a sing-song quality to his voice. "What a surprise to see you here. I didn't expect to find you here. I just came by to pick up a small delivery." 

Reade aimed his gun at Roman and ordered him to drop his gun. Roman laughed. 

"That's what I love about you guys. You're so unpredictable," Roman said. He shut the door he just came through and locked it. He spotted Zapata against the wall and pointed his gun at her. He grabbed her roughly by the vest and put the barrel of the gun to the back of her neck, forcing her to walk towards Reade.  

"Tasha," he crooned. "How nice to see you too. It's like a reunion. Is my sister and her husband around? They must be." He made a show of looking around the warehouse. "You two clowns don't go anywhere without them. I bet they're outside securing the loading dock. Maybe we should call them inside. We could have a party!"

"Roman," Reade warned. "Let her go and drop the gun."

Roman seemed to consider this for a minute. "You make a convincing argument, Edgar. I mean, I could let sweet little Tasha go and drop the gun and let you arrest me, or I could shoot her and then shoot you. That's a tough one. I really will have to think about that for a minute." 

Reade flicked the safety off his rifle and the loud click echoed in the warehouse. 

Roman tisked at him and jammed the gun harder into Zapata's neck.  

"You don't want to do that, Reade," he warned. "You see, I'm not afraid to pull the trigger. I've pulled lots of triggers. And if I decide to pull this one, you're going to see Tasha's brains probably on that wall. I mean, I could pull it and we could find out exactly where they'll go, but I'm betting it'll be the wall. What do you think?"

"I think you're a psychopath," Reade said. He took a cautious step forward. Roman took a step backwards. 

"You're not thinking, Assistant Director," Roman said. 

"No," Reade said. "You're wrong. I'm thinking just fine. You're the one not thinking." He took another step forward.

Roman stepped backwards again and Zapata felt herself brush against one of the metal shelves. She gave Reade a look and then jammed her elbow back into Roman's chest, bringing her fist up to connect with his Adam's apple. She broke free of his grip as Roman staggered backwards and pulled the trigger. 

The single shot from Roman's gun followed by the burst of automatic gunfire brought Jane and Weller running through the door from the loading dock. They heard Zapata's scream. 

"Patterson! We need med evac now.  Reade's been shot."

"What happened, Tasha?" Weller yelled as they entered the warehouse space. He ran towards the open door on the right side of the warehouse. Jane ran to where Reade lay on the concrete. Blood was pooling from a wound in his neck. 

"Roman," Tasha said, kneeling beside Reade. She applied pressure to the bullet wound and watched blood bubble out between her fingers. "Come on Reade, you're not done being pissed off at me. You have to hang in there. Patterson's got an ambulance on the way."

Jane turned and aimed her gun in the direction where the shots had come. Roman was gone. Kurt returned a few seconds later. 

"He's gone," Weller said to Jane. "Patterson, Roman's in the area. We need all eyes. He's armed and he's  shot Reade."

"Right," Patterson said.  "And I've got an ambulance on the way. It should be there in a few minutes."

Jane knelt beside Tasha and grabbed her hand. The sound of an ambulance siren could be heard in the distance.

"He'll be okay," she said. 

"I'm sorry, Tash," Reade gasped out as he tried to sit up and lean against the wall.

"Shhhh," Tasha said, leaning down to give Reade a hug. "Don't say anything. The ambulance is coming. Just hang on with me.  Just a few more minutes."

Reade tried to say something else but couldn't form the words. Jane got up and went to Weller. 

"That's a lot of blood," she said quietly so Tasha wouldn't hear.  The ambulance siren was getting closer. 

"Patterson?" Weller asked. "Do you have an ETA on that ambulance."

"It's just down the block," she said. "It should be there any minute." 

Weller's cellphone rang and he grabbed it. The caller ID was Patterson. 

"Sorry," she said as soon as Weller answered. "I didn't want to talk on comms with Tash. How bad is it?"

Weller stepped out of the warehouse and into the center of the loading dock's parking area. The ambulance was turning into the driveway. 

"He's bleeding out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll do my best to wrap this up before 3x21 airs. Reade fans, I'll make it up to you at some point.


	3. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha was full of rage. Rage at the stupid EMT who kept ma'aming her, rage at Roman for shooting Reade, and rage at Reade for getting shot. 
> 
> "It's just like Andy," she said.

Chapter Three

"I'm going with him," Tasha insisted, shoving her rifle into Jane's hand and stepping towards the ambulance as Reade was loaded into the back on a stretcher. An EMT reached an arm out and stopped her. 

"Ma'am, I need you to take a step back," he said.  

"No," Tasha said, pushing ahead. "I'm going."

The EMT stepped in front of her and put both hands on her arms and attempted to walk her back away from the ambulance. 

"Ma'am —"

"Don't 'ma'am' me," Tasha snapped. She was full of rage. Rage at the stupid EMT who kept ma'aming her, rage at Roman for shooting Reade, and rage at Reade for getting shot. "I am an agent with the CIA, and I'm going with him."

The EMT was unfazed. 

"Agent..."

"Zapata. Natasha Zapata," Tasha replied.

"Agent Zapata, I understand what you're saying but you cannot go. You can follow us to the hospital but if you want us to help your friend —"

"Reade. He's the assistant director at the FBI," Tasha said. 

"That's fine," the EMT replied patiently. "If you want us to help Assistant Director Reade, I need you to let the paramedics do their jobs. And that means I need you to step back."

Jane put a hand on Tasha's shoulder, and the EMT released his grasp. "Tash," she said softly, pulling her back. 

Weller jogged down the steps leading from the loading dock and the warehouse beyond. He was speaking quickly into his cell phone and disconnected as he approached Jane and Tasha.

"There's blood around that door where Roman grabbed Tasha," he told Jane. "Looks like Reade fired off half a dozen shots. He hit Roman."

"Bad?" Jane asked. 

"It's hard to say," he admitted. "Probably not. Patterson's got another team in the area coming out to secure the rest of the building and start a search for Roman. She's already working on the video footage to see if she can spot where he might have exited the building."

The EMTs slammed the back doors of the ambulance, and Weller quickly approached the driver's door. 

"Where are you taking him?"

"Bellevue," the driver said as he flipped the ambulance's siren on and put the vehicle in motion. "We gotta really hammer it."

Tasha leaned heavily against Jane as she watched the ambulance turn out of the driveway into the busy 42nd Street traffic. 

"He'll be okay," Jane whispered and caught Tasha in a one-armed hug. 

*** 

Patterson ran through the emergency room doors and stopped at a check-in desk. She held out her FBI badge.

"Hey," she began as she tried to catch her breath. "I'm looking for —"

"I want to know what's going on!" A woman's voice echoed from down a hallway. "Yeah? Well, I'm CIA, lady, and if you don't want...!"

She stuffed her ID back into her pocket. 

"Never mind. I'll just follow the crazy person's voice," she said and hurried off in the direction of Tasha's voice. 

Patterson came upon Tasha Zapata in the middle of a hallway. She was still wearing her vest. She'd cornered a nurse carrying a clipboard and was demanding information while brandishing her badge. 

"Tasha," she said, turning her away from the rattled nurse who quickly walked down the hall to the nearest nurses' station. She hugged her tightly. "What's going on? Is Reade okay?"

The tension in Tasha's body drained away as she hugged Patterson. The tears she'd been holding back since arriving at the hospital broke free and started flowing. 

"I don't know. There was so much blood," she whispered. She pulled out of the hug and let Patterson lead her to a nearby row of chairs. "I've been asking everyone that walks by, and no one will tell me anything." She cast an accusatory glare towards the nurses' station.

"Where's Jane and Weller?"

Tasha shook her head miserably. "I don't know. Something about coffee?"

Patterson crouched in front of her and nodded. She was furious. Jane and Weller just left Tasha alone to wander the hallways when she was clearly distraught so they could get coffee.

"Ok. How about we get you out of this," she said, working the Velcro straps that held the bulletproof vest on. The front was covered in Reade's drying blood.  Patterson noticed that Tasha's hands and arms were also covered in dried blood. She set the heavy vest on the floor next to Tasha. "Now, sit here. You can do that, right? You won't go yelling at anyone else?"

Tasha didn't react. 

"I need you to promise you'll sit here," Patterson said, taking Tasha's left hand in her own and kissing it lightly. "I'm going to see if I can find out anything, okay? Promise?"

"Yeah, ok," Tasha said. She wiped a tear away from her face. Patterson stood and watched Tasha for a minute. Without the bulk of her vest, she looked small, lost, and defenseless. Her face was an emotionless tearstained mask.

Patterson hurried off in the direction of the nurses' station, casting a glance back at Tasha to make sure she was still sitting where she'd left her. She pulled her badge from her pocket and held it up for the nurses at the station to see. 

"Hi," she said quietly in her most polite and official sounding voice. "I'm Special Agent Patterson with the FBI. Assistant Director Edgar Reade was brought in here by ambulance a little while ago. He had a gunshot wound. Can anyone tell me anything?" 

"You said Reade?" one of the nurses asked. She flipped through a vertical file of recent admits. She pulled a file and studied it quickly. "African-American male in his 30s, brought in with a gunshot wound to the left side of his neck?"

"Yes. That's him." 

"He's currently in surgery," the nurse replied. "If you'll take a seat, I'll get a doctor to give you a more complete update as soon as we have more information."

"That's it? That's all you know?" Patterson asked. 

"At this time, that's it."

Patterson leaned across the desk and lowered her voice. She didn't want to risk Tasha hearing. "When he was brought in, was he conscious?"

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry. I really don't know."

Patterson leaned back and let out a long breath. "Ok. Thanks."

She turned from the desk and watched Tasha from a distance. She hadn't moved since Patterson walked away. She started to return when she heard Weller's voice behind her. She turned and looked up and down the intersection of hallways and saw Jane and Weller walking towards her. She glanced back at Tasha again before storming down the hallway towards the couple. 

"Where the hell have you guys been?" she demanded in a low voice. 

"What do you mean?" Jane asked. "We took Tasha down to the cafeteria to get coffee. She needed a distraction."

Patterson made a show of looking behind them for Tasha. 

"Oh! Ok, well that makes sense," she said with false brightness. She let the friendliness drop from her voice. "One little problem. You're missing someone."

Weller raised a hand holding a cup of coffee at Patterson. 

"We know," he said. "We got down there, ordered, and turned to hand her a cup and she was gone."

"Gone?" Patterson repeated. "How do you lose someone in an FBI issued bulletproof vest that's covered in blood?"

Jane closed her eyes and shook her head. "You found her then," she said. 

"Uh, yeah," Patterson said. "I walked into the emergency room and started to ask where I could find Reade, and I heard Tasha down here bawling out some nurse."

"She got away. I swear," Jane said apologetically. "She seemed like she'd calmed down a little bit so I tried to take the vest off her, and she wouldn't let me. And then I tried to get her to wash the blood off her hands. She pulled her gun on me."

Patterson cocked an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" She looked back towards Tasha who was staring at her bloody hands. "Where's her gun now?"

"I have it," Weller said. "We came right back after we realized she was gone. We figured she'd come back here." 

Jane nodded towards Tasha. "She took the vest off."

"I took the vest off," Patterson corrected. "I got her to sit and wait while I talked to the nurses."

"You're magic," Jane said and smiled. 

"Well, she was apparently unarmed, so there's that," Patterson replied. 

"Did you find out anything?" Weller asked. 

"He's in surgery and they'll send a doctor out to talk to us as soon as there's something to tell us," she said. 

"So nothing new," Jane said. 

They started towards Tasha. She looked up at the sound of their footsteps and saw the coffee in Weller's hand. She gave a sheepish smile. 

Weller handed her a cup. Jane sat down beside Tasha. 

"Are you okay?" Jane asked. "You scared the hell out of us when you disappeared."

"Sorry," she said. "I just needed to know  _something_. I can't stand sitting here not knowing anything while Reade could be in there dy..." She broke off and the tears started again. 

Patterson sat down on the other side of her and took the coffee cup out of her hand and handed it back to Weller. She hugged her again. 

"Don't say that," she said. "The nurses said that he's in surgery, and the doctors will come out and tell us something soon."

"How soon?"

"Soon," Patterson soothed. 

Tasha leaned against Patterson and seemed to suddenly notice her hands. "I'm bloody," she said vacantly. "Did I get shot too?"

Jane took one of her hands and held it with both of hers. "No, sweetie. You were helping Reade."

"Oh."

"How about you let Jane and I clean you up a bit?" Patterson asked, resting her head on Tasha's and smoothing a hand over her hair. "When we get back, maybe the doctors will have something to tell us."

Tasha got to her feet, and Jane and Patterson rose with her. Jane set her coffee down on the seat she'd vacated. 

"I don't want to lose him," Tasha admitted. 

"You won't," Patterson assured her. "He's still mad at you, and he's just as stubborn as you are. I've never seen him walk away from an argument before."

Tasha smiled at this and allowed Patterson to walk her to the nearest ladies' room. Jane hung back and watched the two of them walk away. 

"Patterson's magic," she said to her husband, in awe at how quickly and easily Patterson had gotten Tasha to cooperate. 

"I'll wait here," Weller said. "If the doctor comes out, I'll let you know."

She kissed Weller quickly and went to join Patterson and Tasha in the restroom.

Jane and Patterson helped wash the blood from Tasha's arms and hands. Patterson took a piece of paper towel and washed the tearstains from her face. She brushed the brunette's hair from her face and smiled at her. 

"You get caught in the middle of a gunfight and you still look great," she said. "Maybe it's Maybelline."

Tasha gave her a smile. She was so thankful for Patterson being there with her. She knew she wouldn't have been able to handle it if they were still fighting. Patterson was her rock. 

Jane's cell phone vibrated with a text message. 

"It's Kurt," she announced. "He's got a doctor."

Tasha's eyes went wide and worry overtook her face. Patterson grabbed her hand and squeezed it. 

"Come on," Patterson said. 

***

The left side of Reade's neck was covered in a large white bandage, a thin tube ran down his throat, and two others looped up into his nostrils. A series of machines to the left of his bed let out a series of steady beeps.  The doctor had told them his condition was critical and the next 24 hours would be the most important.  He'd lost several pints of blood and had been given a transfusion. For now, he was being kept in a chemically induced coma. The doctor was unwilling to give them a longer term prognosis, but he gave them five minutes in the room. 

Jane and Weller entered first. They'd both spent entirely too much time lately visiting team members in the hospital. Patterson had been the last patient when the experiment she was running exploded and sent her to the hospital with bleeding on the brain. It seemed too soon to be seeing another member of the team lying helplessly in a hospital bed.  When they saw Reade with his eyes closed, breathing steadily with the help of the machines, Jane turned to the open door and gestured for Patterson to let Tasha into the room.

Tasha took a deep breath as she stepped inside. She knew Reade was in there in critical condition but it was still a shock. She dragged a visitor's chair alongside his bed and sat down. The tears came immediately, and she cursed herself for being so weak. 

"Dammit, Reade," she said. "When you said we didn't have to talk, I thought you were just being pigheaded. I didn't know you meant that we weren't going to be able to."

Jane tapped Weller on the shoulder and gestured for them to leave the room. She nudged Patterson as well but Patterson shook her head and gestured that they should go. She'd stay in case Tasha needed someone. 

"I'm so sorry, Ed," Tasha continued. "This is my fault. If I hadn't tried to break free from Roman. If I hadn't insisted on trying to talk about everything. If I had just kept my mind on clearing the damn warehouse. If I hadn't made a mess of things. Of everything. I'm so sorry."

She used a shaky hand to wipe away tears and sniffed. She let a few moments pass as she pulled herself together. 

"You're not allowed to die," she said, her voice back to the same forceful tone she'd used with the nurse earlier. "I'm not going to let you. We're friends, and you're not getting out of this friendship that easily. I've made up my mind. That's it.  There's nothing else to talk about."

She fought another round of tears and stared down at Reade. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

"You're one of my best friends, Ed," she whispered. "You have to come back to me." She considered things for a moment and let out a half laugh, half sob. "If you don't, I win. I'll get the last word. I don't want the last word."

She bowed her head and let herself cry again. She didn't hear Patterson walk up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder. She felt the scientist's blonde hair against her cheek as Patterson leaned down and whispered to her. 

"Come on, Tash. We've got to go."

***

It'd taken all three of them to convince Tasha to go home and get some actual sleep. If Patterson's guess was correct, Tasha had probably slept five hours in the last 24. She wanted to stay in the hospital. She was willing to sleep in one of the hard, plastic chairs or on the floor. She'd even asked a nurse if they could bring a cot into Reade's room.  In the end, she'd agreed to let Weller drive her to her apartment but Jane was afraid if they left Tasha alone, she'd do anything but sleep. The agent was angry and sad and vulnerable. And, Jane worried, unpredictable.

"You were great with her at the hospital," Jane said to Patterson. "She wouldn’t even let me clean the blood off her without threatening to shoot me. You should stay with her."

Patterson followed Tasha to her front door and locked it behind them once inside. Her living room was the same as she'd left it when Reade had left and Patterson had called her back to the office. Two partial glasses of wine were on the kitchen counter. Patterson spotted the remains of a white blouse tossed in the corner next to a few scattered buttons. She remembered what Reade had told her in his office. He'd tried to get intimate and Tasha said her name instead. 

She walked with Tasha into the bedroom at the end of the short hall and smoothed the rumpled covers. Tasha rarely made her bed. It drove Patterson crazy. Tasha sat down on the bed and stared into the open door leading back to the living room. Patterson scooped up a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt with the logo for the 96th precinct on it from near Tasha's pillow. She sat on the bed next to Tasha and handed her the pajamas. 

"You should change," she said. "I can soak your shirt if you want. You've got some blood on it."

Tasha stood and pulled the bloodied black t-shirt over her head. She handed it to Patterson. 

"Thanks," she said. 

Patterson eyed the scars on Tasha's stomach and sides. The edges of other scars peeked over her shoulders, and Patterson knew there were more scattered on her back and legs. She took the shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to set the shirt to soak. When she returned Tasha had changed and was lying on the bed. 

"I'm going to crash on the couch," Patterson said. She'd already shared Tasha's bed but with everything that had happened in the last 12 hours, she thought the couch might be the best thing. Tasha sat up. 

"No, P." she said. "Stay with me,"

Patterson sighed and furrowed her brow. 

"I don't know, Tash," she said. "Is that a good idea?"

"Yes," Tasha said. "Just stay here. Please."

Patterson gestured at the blazer and slacks she was wearing. "I don't have pajamas," she said simply. 

Tasha got up and opened a dresser drawer. She pulled out a nearly identical t-shirt to the one she was wearing and tossed it to the blonde. Patterson unfolded the shirt and held it out. 

"It's a little small, Tash," she said. 

"I'm shorter than you," Tasha said. "Petite even. It's fine. We’re just sleeping. I have some shorts that might fit you if you want."

Patterson shrugged out of her blazer and swapped her blouse for the blue NYPD shirt and folded her slacks and set them on an empty chair. 

"This is fine," she said. 

Tasha took Patterson's hands in her own and kissed her on the lips. 

"Thank you for staying," she said, stifling a yawn. 

"You're exhausted," Patterson observed. "Sleep."

Tasha went to her bed and laid back down. She watched Patterson fight a yawn and patted the bed next to her. 

"You're exhausted," she said echoing Patterson's words. "Sleep."

Patterson hesitated.

"Oh come on," Tasha said. "You've slept here before. Right there in fact. Just get in bed, idiot."

"I'm not an idi.... whatever," Patterson objected as she laid on the bed next to Tasha. 

Tasha leaned back against Patterson and turned her head to look at her. 

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For everything. But thank you for staying." 

Patterson wrapped an arm around the smaller woman and closed her eyes. She felt Tasha take in a shuddering breath. 

"What is it, Tash?"

Tasha pulled out of Patterson's embrace and rolled over to face her. Tears once again were streaking down her face. 

"It's just like Andy," she said. 

"No, it's not," Patterson said. "It's not like Andy at all."

"After Andy, everything just spiraled," Tasha said. "I don't want to go back there."

Patterson put a hand under Tasha's chin and tipped her head up. She kissed her again and pulled her tight to her.

"Reade is alive," she said. "And you're not alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out, my best laid plans weren't so well laid. My intentions were for a "Major Character Death" but the characters turned out to be tougher than I thought. 
> 
> I don't know if this is the end. There's probably at least one more chapter that needs to be written.


	4. It's Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha was afraid to label whatever she and Patterson were doing. She'd just gotten Patterson back, and she didn't want to be the one to put their relationship in a box. But Patterson liked things in neat orderly boxes. Preferably boxes arranged by type and then alphabetized within their subset. She liked being able to identify things. 
> 
> "Tasha," Weller began, "just sit down. Wait for the doctor."

Chapter Four

They could hear the yelling before they even reached the front door. Tasha hated domestic abuse calls. They were unpredictable and often alcohol induced. Each call reminded her of the nights when police strobes filtered through the bedroom windows of her childhood home. Those nights were too frequent. Her father's alcohol-fueled episodes were often loud and violent for whoever happened to get caught in the crossfire. At least three of the scars littering Tasha's body had been added courtesy of a smashed beer bottle wielded in her direction by her own father.  

Andy looked back at Tasha. She had her hand on the butt of her gun and she gave him a nod. He pounded on the front door. It was a hard knock using the side of his fist. Tasha had taken to calling it his "warrant" knock. It was loud and forceful and just the sound of it was usually enough to silence a room. The yelling stopped.

The front door flew open and a man in a stained wife-beater stood there. He looked from Andy to Tasha where his gaze lingered. He licked his lips. 

"What?"

"We got a call about a domestic disturbance at this address," Andy said, bringing the man's lecherous gaze from Tasha back to him. 

"Wrong address," the man said and moved to slam the door closed on them. Andy reached a hand out and forced the door back open. 

"Sir, we heard yelling from outside. We'd like to have a conversation with you," he said, stepping into the doorway. 

The man turned back and Tasha saw something flicker in his eyes. It was the same flicker she'd seen in her father's eyes right before he threw a bottle at her mother or a chair across the room at her or one of her brothers. If the smell of whiskey on his breath hadn't been enough of a tip off, that look was. 

"Have you been drinking, sir?" she asked, speaking for the first time. 

"Is it a crime to drink in your own home?" he asked, fixing that look on her. 

"No," she said. She spotted a woman cowering in a far corner of the room with a broken nose and lacerations on her face. "But it's a crime to beat your wife."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Saying the wrong thing was what had caused split lips and black eyes. 

"Is that so?" Spittle flew from his lips and he shot a hand out past Andy, grabbing Tasha's arm and yanking her hard towards him. "And what are you going to do about it, little girl?"

What happened next was a blur. Tasha saw it happen in slow-motion but it may as well have happened in triple time. Andy pushed the man backwards through the front door. The drunk lost his grip on Tasha as he fell backwards into his living room. He somehow managed to pull Andy off of him. She didn't see the the shot hit Andy point blank but she saw the man turn the gun on himself. It was only then that she realized that Andy had been shot. Blood was staining the front of his uniform. She yelled her partner's name before grabbing the portable that was clipped to her chest and made the call: Officer down. Shots fired. 

"Andy!" Tasha woke herself up screaming her former partner's name, and she sat upright in the bed. Her body was covered in sweat, and she felt tears starting to well in the corner of her eyes again. She'd cried too much in the last few hours. She didn't think she could possibly have any tears left in her. But she did and they came out in great, body wracking sobs. She pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her head in her hands and sobbed. 

Her scream roused Patterson who was frantically reaching for her gun which, had she been home, would have been on the nightstand beside her bed. She quickly realized where she was and what was happening and wrapped both arms around Tasha. She kissed the top of her head and held her until the sobs subsided. 

"It's okay," Patterson whispered. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 6 a.m.

"What if it's not okay?" Tasha asked. She didn't look at Patterson, her face still buried in her hands. "What if Reade —"

"Hey," Patterson interrupted sharply. "Listen to me. Reade is not Andy. He's not."

"I know but —"

"No, no buts. He's going to be fine."

***

There was no sense trying to go back to sleep. Tasha wouldn't have slept anyway so Patterson directed her towards the shower instead.  Patterson found her way into the kitchen, washed out the wine glasses Reade and Tasha had used the day before, and made a pot of strong coffee. She sat on the couch in Tasha's living room in a 96th precinct t-shirt and the pants she'd worn to work the previous day drinking her second cup of coffee. She'd texted Jane to see if they'd heard anything from the hospital and was surprised when Jane texted her back immediately. It seemed there hadn't been much sleep in the Doe-Weller household either. 

Tasha stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a black Henley shirt. She sat on the couch next to Patterson and leaned over to look at Patterson's phone. 

"No news?"

"No news."

"You made coffee?" Tasha asked. 

"Yeah," Patterson said as she took a swallow. "There's a pot in the kitchen."

"I don't know the last time I made coffee. I usually just pick it up on my way into the office." She kissed Patterson on the cheek.  "Thank you."

Patterson didn't respond. She was looking at the torn blouse on the floor in the corner. She took another sip of coffee.

"Are you okay?" Tasha asked, turning back towards her. "You're quiet."

"Yeah," she said. "Sorry. I haven't had enough coffee yet. The whole words sentence forming is not so good in the morning."

Tasha poured herself a coffee and returned to the living room. She curled up on the couch next to Patterson and watched as the blonde's eyes seemed to go in and out of focus and then search back and forth. Tasha followed her gaze and realized what she was staring at. She set her coffee down and quickly got to her feet and picked up the shirt and a few stray buttons. She disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and then returned. 

"I wish you hadn't seen that," she said, sitting back down. "You're probably wondering —"

"No," Patterson said. "Reade told me." 

Tasha sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry, Patterson."

"Why? For what?" Patterson asked. She finished her coffee and set the mug on the table. She was beginning to feel more human.

"Because you don't deserve that," she said as she watched Patterson's face. "You've been so incredible to me."

"He told me what happened," Patterson said. She turned to look at Tasha. "You said my name."

Tasha nodded and gave a small smile. "Yeah."

Patterson checked the text that just arrived. Jane had agreed to make Weller stop to pick up a change of clothes for her before they picked them up to go to the hospital. She sighed and set her phone down. 

"What are we?" she asked finally. "I mean, what are we?" She laughed realizing that she hadn't actually clarified anything. "Reade asked if we were dating."

"What'd you tell him?"

"I don't know."

"He asked me the same thing," Tasha admitted. 

"And?"

"I said I didn't know."

Patterson hmmed and chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. Tasha was afraid to label whatever she and Patterson were doing. She'd just gotten Patterson back, and she didn't want to be the one to put their relationship in a box. But Patterson liked things in neat orderly boxes. Preferably boxes arranged by type and then alphabetized within their subset. She liked being able to identify things. 

"The last person I dated was Jack. I don't think he counts as actually 'dated' though," Patterson said finally. "Before that, there was the guy who tortured me and tried to kill me. And David was murdered. So that's not a super great track record."

"Ricky," Tasha said. 

"Is that it?" Patterson asked. She was certain Tasha had dated Ricky when she was 18, maybe 20. That would have been more than 10 years ago. 

"I don't date a lot," Tasha admitted, drinking her coffee. "There's been random guys and a few girls here and there but nothing really long term."

Patterson considered this for a moment. "Wasn't there a Randy in there somewhere?"

Tasha almost choked on her coffee. "Randy was my bookie."

"Oh." She said nothing for a moment. Another text from Jane appeared on her phone. They'd be at Tasha's apartment in about 20 minutes. "Ok, so, maybe if you promise not to try to kill me and you don't let yourself get murdered, we can  _try_ dating or something."

"Or something?"

Patterson stood up and took her mug to the kitchen. She rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher. 

"Yeah, something," she said and turned back to see Tasha watching her. "I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship but we can see where it goes, I guess."

Tasha took Patterson by both hands and looked up into the other woman's face. "So, you're my girlfriend, then?"

"Yes." Patterson smiled and then hesitated. "Um, this is going to sound bad. Can we not tell anyone yet? I don't want this to be weird at the office or anything."

Tasha nodded. "Of course. Work is work."

Patterson caught a glimpse of the microwave clock. "Jane and Weller will be here soon. I'm going to borrow your shower, ok?  And then we'll go see Reade."

"Right, ok," Tasha said. "I'll pick up a little. This mess is probably driving you crazy."

Patterson kissed Tasha's forehead. "Good. Start by making the bed. It's making me nuts."

***

Reade was awake when they arrived at the hospital. The on-duty nurse insisted they wait to see him until she paged a doctor. Jane, Weller, and Patterson took seats while Tasha paced. 

"This is ridiculous," she said. "He's awake. He's right in there. He can probably hear every word we're saying. They can't keep us out of there."

"Tasha," Weller began, "just sit down. Wait for the doctor."

"Like hell," she replied and started towards Reade's door as the doctor from the previous night approached from down the hell.

"Good morning, " he said and extended hand to Weller. "He's awake."

"We've heard," Tasha said curtly, folding her arms defensively. "I want to see him."

"Sure, sure. Have a seat first," the doctor said, gesturing towards the row of plastic chairs. Tasha didn't move. "Or that's okay, too." He waited to see if Tasha would change her mind. When she didn't he continued. "Ok, so Edgar woke up about 30 minutes ago. The surgery to repair the gunshot wound in the left side of his neck was a success, but he did suffer from a tracheal rupture caused by fragmentation from the bullet so he's still intubated. We'll keep him like this for a few more days until we're certain there's no danger to his airway. Because of that, he's can't speak. You can see him, you can talk to him but don't expect a response. He also lost a great deal of blood before he could be stabilized and the wound closed. He's weak." The doctor fixed his gaze on Tasha. "I don't suggest exciting or upsetting him. Anything that might be stressful could aggravate the wound and cause seepage."

"Is that it?" Tasha asked. "He's going to be okay?"

"That's it," the doctor replied and smiled. "He'll be okay —"

"When can we take him home?" Tasha interrupted. 

"I want to keep him intubated for a few more days, and then he should stay here a few days after that —"

"Four days?" 

Patterson reached out and touched Tasha's arm. "Let him finish."

"Four days, maybe a week," the doctor finished. "I know this is hard for everyone but this is important. Edgar needs to be kept calm. He's also still on some pretty powerful painkillers so he might seem a little out of it but that's normal." The doctor looked at Tasha again and nodded. "Go ahead. You can see him."

***

Tasha pushed open the door to Reade's room. He was in the same position he was when she'd come in the day before. His eyes were closed and all the tubes were still in place. The white bandage had been replaced with a slightly thicker looking one. The visitor's chair she'd moved next to the bed had been returned to its original position. 

"Hey Reade," she said quietly as she approached the bed.

Reade's eyes opened and he tried to smile.

"You're intubated," she said. "You probably already knew that."

Patterson, Jane, and Weller filed into the room behind her. 

"You know, when I left you that voicemail the other day, I didn't really mean for you try to get Roman to kill you," Patterson said. "But bonus points for dedication to a task though."

Reade tried to smile behind the tubes. He mimed writing and Jane grabbed a pen and pad of paper from a nearby table and passed it to him.

"Roman?" he wrote. "Crawford?"

Weller shook his head. "Roman took off. You shot him, though, but we haven't been able to track him down yet."

"The incident at the Salmon Building threw a wrench in Crawford's plans for now," Patterson said. "My team back in the lab going back over Lynette's laptop again looking for something I might have missed."

Reade rolled his eyes. Patterson didn't miss things. Roman and Crawford had most likely gone to ground again. 

A nurse entered the room and pushed her way through the gathered team members. She carried Reade's chart and went to the IV pole. She made a notation and then turned back to the team.

"We need to change Edgar's bandages. I have to ask you to step out for a minute."

They murmured their assent and began to leave the room. Reade banged the pen on the edge of the bed to get their attention. When they turned back to him, he pointed to Tasha and Patterson and then held up a finger.  _One minute._ He waited for Weller and Jane to leave and then scribbled on the pad for a second before turning it to show them. 

"It's okay. I'm happy for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fic that will never end. (It goes on and on, my friends.) Every day I think, "one more chapter" and every day I finish working and know that there's at least one more chapter still to be written. I'm 100% wrapping this up in the next chapter and it'll be up before 3x21 airs on Friday.


	5. It Never Stops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patterson pushed pause and rewound the video. She stepped the footage forward a frame at a time until the screen went white. She walked the footage forward another step and the frame returned to normal. 
> 
> "What is that?" Patterson asked and rewound the frame again. She walked it forward again until the screen went white and then rewound again. She repeated the process several times. She picked up her desk phone and dialed a number. 
> 
> "Hey," she said by way of greeting. "Come back." She paused and listened. "Because I said to. Bring Tasha. Told her I said she had to come." She hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this particular work. I promised a major character death and I under-delivered. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. 
> 
> Also, Happy Season 4 Renewal Day!

Chapter Five

Patterson was back at her desk. Lynette's laptop was open in front of her but she wasn't looking at it. She'd been through every file at least three times already, and she wasn't seeing anything new. She was out of ideas. Roman was winning and that meant Crawford was winning, and she had no idea what the next move would be. She considered asking Rich to take a look but wasn't quite ready to admit defeat. She queued up the surveillance feeds to the large wall-mounted monitors and watched the footage carefully, trying to spot where Roman had entered and then eventually exited the Salmon Building. She still didn't know how he'd even gotten inside the building without her knowing about it. She missed something and that bothered her. 

She'd left the hospital with Jane shortly after a nurse changed the bandage on Reade's neck. He was awake and doctors were expecting a full recovery, but Tasha had insisted on staying with him. No amount of arguing or reasoning would change her mind so Jane and Weller agreed to take turns with Patterson to stay at the hospital with Tasha. Weller had offered to take the first shift partly to give Patterson a break from the emotional Zapata and, more importantly, because they needed her back in the lab going through the evidence.

"Kurt is hating Zapata Watch," Jane said, interrupting Patterson's thoughts. "She's driving him crazy."

"Already? It's only been 45 minutes," Patterson said, glancing at her watch. She was happy for the excuse to look away from the monitors. It'd been an extremely long 36 hours. 

"She won't leave Reade's room. Reade is sleeping, so she paces. Everywhere. Kurt says he thinks she's worn a track between Reade's bed and the door. He keeps telling her to sit, relax, and take a nap and, she started muttering in Spanish. Hang on let me get this right..." Jane fished her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and read the phonetically rendered text from Kurt aloud in perfect Spanish: "Que te la pique un pollo."

Patterson shook her head. "My Spanish is bad," she admitted. "Something about a pecking chicken?"

Jane laughed and blushed. "It means 'I hope a chicken pecks at your dick.'"

Patterson sat on the edge of her desk and laughed. It felt good. None of them had much time for laughter lately. 

"That sounds like Tasha," she said. 

"Did she sleep at all last night?" Jane asked. "She looked really tired this morning."

"She passed out right away but she had nightmares," Patterson said. 

"About Reade?"

"About Andy."

Jane shook her head. "Who's Andy?"

"Her old partner at NYPD," Patterson said. "He was shot and killed when he was out on a domestic abuse call with Tasha. She doesn't talk about it a lot."

Jane nodded. It made sense she'd be having nightmares about her old partner dying since her partner and friend had just been shot. Jane couldn’t help but feel partially responsible. It was her tattoos that had brought them all together in the first place, and it was her tattoos that brought them all together again. It was her tattoos that lead them into increasingly dangerous situations and put them up against people like Crawford. And Roman. 

"What about you?" Jane asked. "You were great with her yesterday."

"Did I sleep? Yeah, until Tasha woke up screaming. I thought I was going to have a heart attack," Patterson said. "But I'm good. I've had about five cups of coffee so far today so I should be good for a while."

"You guys are talking again." It wasn't a question but an observation.

Patterson bit her lip and chose her words carefully. 

"I'm not over it," she said. "But I want to be. We had drinks the other night and ordered Thai and worked on Lynette's laptop together. Tasha has been my best friend since coming to the FBI. I love her so much. Freezing her out was awful. I missed her. And it's killing me that she's reacting like this."

"We didn't sleep a lot either," Jane confessed. "Kurt is obsessed. He doesn't know how we missed Roman. He chased after him and couldn't find him. It was like he'd just disappeared."

Patterson stood up again and turned back to the security footage. 

"That’s bothering me too," she said. "I've gone over these tapes a hundred times. I know them by heart. And I can't figure out where Roman came from or where he went. He's like a ghost." 

She pushed play on the recorders and went back to staring at the footage. Jane stood next to her and watched. There was quick white blip over one of the frames and the footage continued playing like normal. 

"What was that?" Jane asked. "That blip."

Patterson pushed pause and rewound the video. She stepped the footage forward a frame at a time until the screen went white. She walked the footage forward another step and the frame returned to normal. 

"What  _is_  that?" Patterson asked and rewound the frame again. She walked it forward again until the screen went white and then rewound again. She repeated the process several times. She picked up her desk phone and dialed a number.

"Hey," she said by way of greeting. "Come back." She paused and listened. "Because I said to. Bring Tasha. Told her I said she had to come." She hung up.

***

"Jane's right. You're magic," Weller said to Patterson as he walked into the room with Tasha. She hadn't fought Weller on leaving the hospital once she'd heard that Patterson had asked them to come back to the office. 

"How's Reade?" Jane asked. 

"Not great," Weller said. "He'll be back though. He's been sleeping all morning."

Patterson turned from the video set up and saw Tasha. The CIA agent looked tired but her eyes seem to focus on the monitors. Patterson walked over and grabbed her hand. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm good," she said and offered a weak smile. "I'm tired but I'm okay. Did you find something?"

Patterson held her hand for a moment longer and gave a squeeze before letting go and turning back to the monitors. 

"This is actually a pretty big deal," she began. "And I wouldn't have found it if it weren't for Jane. I've watched this footage hundreds of times. Literally. And I missed it. Repeatedly. I'm not super proud of that. Check this out."

She pushed play and let the footage begin to roll. The screen showed an empty hallway. The digital timestamp counted out the seconds and then there was a quick white flash and the image of the empty hallway returned. The timestamp was still counting. But it was five seconds ahead of where it had been. She stopped the video and turned back to the group.

"This video shows the hallway leading to an entrance on the east side of the building. It leads to a Starbucks on 6th," she said, pulling up a floorplan for the Salmon Building. "Did you guys all catch that weird blip? It's a white flash like something either moved in front of the camera and interrupted the picture or like it went offline temporarily." 

She rewound the footage and played it again, taking control of the jog wheel and stepping the picture ahead frame by frame.  She stopped just before the screen went white. 

"Look at the timestamp," she said. "15:47:23. Now, look at this..." She took control of the jog wheel again and stepped the video until immediately after the white flash. "15:47:30. It shouldn't have done that. If the flash was just a blip of nothing, it should have picked up again at 15:47:25 at the most. But it skips ahead almost five seconds."

"So what does that mean?" Weller asked. "The video went offline for five seconds?" 

"No," Patterson said. "That's what I thought at first but it does it again at 15:57:16. I checked the comms logs and Tasha called in at 15:46:07 and asked about PETN and then again at 15:55:48 for an ambulance. This video was tampered with. It's like someone was monitoring the feed – not me – and spliced in a video loop of the empty hallway in real time probably to hide someone's presence.  They just didn't do a very good job because of the timestamp error."

"This is how Roman got away, isn't it?" Tasha asked. "The Bank of America Tower is right across the street from there. There has to be dozens of cameras in that area."

Patterson smiled and nodded. Her hands flew over the keyboard and a video from the Bank of America Tower appeared. She cued the video to 15:47:30 and zoomed in to a tight angle to the entrance of the Starbucks. 

"3, 2, 1. Peekaboo, Roman" Patterson said. "There he is. And I can follow him past the Sondheim Theater and he gets in a cab on Broadway."

"Good work, Patterson," Weller said. 

"I've got calls in to the Yellow Cab Company trying to track down the exact cab and driver but you know how these guys operate," Patterson said. "It could take a while."

"What about Crawford? Any leads on what he's up to?" Weller asked. 

Patterson shook her head. "No. I've been through the laptop so many times. I just don't see it. I finally turned it over to Rich. He's looking at it now. Maybe he'll find something that I'm just missing."

Weller's phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID before stepping away to take the call. Bellevue. Patterson eyed Weller as Jane and Tasha continued talking about Roman's getaway through the Starbucks. He'd turned his back and was speaking in a hushed tone to the caller. He turned slightly back towards the group and caught Patterson's eye. He shook his head slightly before hanging up. He gestured for Patterson to walk away from the group and then caught Jane's eye. The look said it all: keep Tasha talking. 

"What's going on?" Patterson asked as she approached.

"That was Bellevue," he said. "Reade's lung collapsed."

Patterson brought a hand to her mouth. She felt her lower lip tremble as if she might break into tears. 

"He'll be okay," Weller continued. "They caught it right away and it'll be fine but Tasha's probably going to freak out again. And there's nothing she can do."

"Ok," Patterson said, pulling herself together. "We have to tell her, and she should probably go home."

Weller was nodding. "Someone's going to have to sit on her," he said. "She's going to run to the hospital."

"I'll go. She's listening to me," she said. "Rich is working on the laptop. I can have Briana stay on top of the cab company. They can call me if anything comes up, and I can access everything from home if I have to."

 "Why are you going home?" Tasha asked. She'd caught pieces of Patterson's conversation with Weller and had walked away from Jane. "Who called?"

Weller exchanged a look with Patterson who gave him a slight nod. 

"That was Bellevue," he said. "Now, don't get upset —"

"What's happening?" Tasha asked. 

"Reade's lung collapsed."

Tasha sucked in a breath and grabbed Patterson's hand. She squeezed it hard. 

"He's okay. They caught it right away. It's not life threatening, it just pushes his timeline back a little bit," Weller continued. "I think the best thing to do is for you to go home. Patterson's going to take you —"

"—Actually, we're going to go to my place," Patterson interrupted. "If I need to jump in to help out with something, I have everything I need there."

Tasha raised a hand in protest. "I don't need to leave. I can stay. I'm okay, really."

Patterson turned to her. "I think home is best. Jane and Weller are going home too," she said. "No one's slept very much, and there is nothing we can do here or at the hospital right now. And you can get around a computer. I can use your help."

***

Patterson's apartment was as tidy as her workspace in the office. Tasha was continuously impressed by how Patterson could get out of bed and immediately make it, put her laundry in the hamper, and put a dish in the dishwasher when she was done with it. Even the board games were alphabetized by company and then by name. Tasha, on the other hand rarely made her bed, left dishes in the sink, and if clothes found their way into the hamper, it was usually by accident. They were opposites in almost every way. But it didn't stop Tasha from feeling intense feelings of love for the other woman.  

Patterson was at her desk. It wasn't as complex as her work set-up, but it was more than Tasha had at her own home. 

"Can I do something?" Tasha asked. She was feeling antsy and useless. She knew that Patterson had taken her home as part of a babysitting assignment. She doubted that Jane and Weller had gone home. But she understood. When Reade was shot, she fell apart. She had a vague recollection of threatening to shoot Jane over something. She couldn't remember what. "I feel useless."

"Do you want a drink or something to eat?" Patterson asked, barely looking up from her computer. "It's early but there's beer in the fridge, water, Diet Coke, orange juice.  I've got Bulleit on the shelf. There's a full fridge, leftover Chinese..." She started to get up to go to the kitchen. 

Tasha waved her back. "I can get it. Do you want something?" 

Patterson glanced at the clock. Just about 1 p.m. "Bulleit neat would be good."

"Straight bourbon," Tasha observed. "Wow."

She fished two glasses from a cabinet and poured two glasses of Bulleit. She handed one to Patterson and clinked with her own glass.  She took a small swallow, testing it out. 

"That's really good," she said. She watched Patterson work for a minute. "This is silly," she said finally. "There is nothing you need me to do. I could do something at the office." 

Patterson didn't respond, and Tasha sighed. She grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it next to her girlfriend. She put an elbow on Patterson's desk and rested her face in her hand. She glanced at the computer monitors. Patterson was going over video footage from where Roman had climbed into the cab on Broadway. She couldn't zoom in enough to read the cab's number. Tasha watched Patterson twist her lips in frustration. She reached across the desk and pushed the power button on one monitor and then the other. 

"Hey!" Patterson said. "What the hell, Tash?"

"I thought I was going to have to stamp Samsung or Microsoft to my forehead to get you to look up," Tasha said. "It's good to know this works too. I just thought we could talk since I'm clearly being held hostage here."

Patterson leaned back in her desk chair and sighed. "You're not a hostage. We're just, we’re concerned about you.  You completely fell apart when Reade was shot."

"Not completely."

"Yes completely," Patterson said. "You threatened nurses at the hospital, you pulled a gun on Jane who, by the way, could have killed you with her bare hands if she wanted to, you insulted Weller in Spanish, you're having nightmares. I mean, most of that is totally like you but you're worrying us. You're worrying  _me._ And I don't know what to do. I want you to feel better. I want you to feel safe. I want to make it all stop for you. But I don't know how."

Tasha leaned forward and kissed Patterson hard on the lips. 

"I'm here," Tasha said simply. "You're here. That’s enough.  I know this isn't going to stop. I'm CIA. I was NYPD and FBI. I know it never stops. There's always going to be something else."

"I know but —"

"But nothing," Tasha said and kissed her again. "You can't make it stop, chiquita. Not every problem and every puzzle is going to get solved. And sometimes you're going to worry. Sometimes  _I'm_  going to worry. Sometimes you're going to worry that I'm going to worry. That happens. It sucks but it happens." She grabbed Patterson's hand and threaded their fingers together. "But I feel safe. And I feel like you care about what happens to me, and I haven't always felt that way before with anyone. You’ve turned your whole life inside out over the last 24 hours. For me. That's amazing. You're amazing. But I need you to stop worrying."

Patterson nodded. 

"It's not that easy," she said. 

"I know." 

Neither spoke and the silence drew out. The vibration of Patterson's cell phone broke through, and she grabbed it. It was a text message from Rich. She read it aloud.

"They've found Roman."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resolution? Not quite. I think we'll let the Writer's Room tell us how and if they catch Roman and Crawford. I hate the idea of going too far off canon (even though it seems like i really have!)
> 
> Also, big thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed my nonsense. And thanks to Martin Gero for creating these characters. I don't own them, but I sure enjoy playing with them. - DWP


End file.
